


The Indigo Slave

by Iamacat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bondage, Bulges and Nooks, Dominance, M/M, Master/Slave, Rough Sex, Teasing, Tentabulges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamacat/pseuds/Iamacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He forges his chains link by link.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Indigo Slave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkiepunk10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkiepunk10/gifts).



“Whose are you?” Eridan grunts, thrusting his hips forward until they bruise against the pointed juts of his new slave’s wide, muscled hips.

To his credit, this slave is a fast learner. “I’m yours, Master,” he replies with a sandy voice. The slave trembles, tugs on his restraints. The chains hiss and squeal in protest, but the metal holds as Eridan crests and fills the slave’s nook with thick, violet slurry.

Eridan says nothing as he withdraws his tentabulge and leaves the slave sticky and unsatisfied. He breaks all his slaves this way. First lesson learned: He is in control.

~

The indigo-blooded slave quickly becomes one of Eridan’s favorites to call upon, specifically because of two attributes: he’s hung like a feral hoofbeast and has the stamina to match. Eridan did not become a captain of Her Imperial Condescension’s fleet by being conservative in any endeavor. Whether it’s war in a sea of crying stars or a one-sided skirmish beneath the sheets, he holds nothing back. Between sunrise and reveille, he rides the indigo slave as fiercely as he drives his starship, until he’s exhausted and aching and taken everything he can and there’s nothing left to conquest but ashes.

~

Eridan tangles his fingers in the indigo slave’s hair and jerks his head back so he can glare into eyes as intensely blue as the noontime skies. “Kneel, blueblood, and don’t use that nimble tongue to speak again until you’re finished.”

The indigo slave nods and bends to one knee in a motion so fluid Eridan can’t help but wonder if the slave practices when he’s not around. He revels in the thought that there’s at least one troll in the whole glubbing universe understands his place.

The slave’s body shivers beneath Eridan’s fingertips and the slave follows his orders.

~

Their sessions take on a different tune when Eridan begins to favor his indigo slave exclusively. There’s no time to ruminate why he stops using his other perfectly good slaves while he’s busy luxuriating in his indigo slave’s keen responses to every command. All he cares about is releasing the night’s frustrations so he can get a restful day’s sleep, and his indigo slave makes a very satisfying target. If he were closer to Eridan’s level, his indigo slave would be worth hating. Except for the biddable smile that spreads across his face as he’s told to spread his legs.

~

“I have the ability to relax you, if you let me.”

“Don’t be brazen,” Eridan warns, mood dark.

"I do not wish to give you any orders, Master.” Merely thinking it makes the indigo slave shudder in self-disgust. “It is your place to– order me– to pleasure you–” He is already panting.

Eridan broods for a moment, then begins to undo his belt. “You’d be my favorite if you weren’t so lewd, blueblood,” he mocks, and his indigo slave blushes before going down on his knees. Eridan raises his face toward the heavens and closes his eyes in rapture.

 ~

Eridan cleanses himself of Equius’s slurry in the ablutionblock and dresses in a pristine uniform. For a few minutes, making his appearance immaculate is his only concern, and when he comes out he only spares a passing glance at the troll on his bed. The drying scratches and dark bruises display across his indigo-tinted body like a holy icon. Eridan can claim every marking as his work with pride. Perhaps he’ll think of this imagery later, and perhaps the imagery will stir a warm lust in him that hastens him back sooner to relish his latest masterpiece before it heals.

~

The footsteps stop right outside the storeroom door. Eridan digs his claws into Equius’s biceps and hisses, “Don’t make a sound!”

It’s midnight on the ship and the only light entering the storeroom they’ve taken slips through the cracks in the imperfect seal around the door, not enough for Equius to see the exhilarated smile painted on Eridan’s face. They’re hilt-deep in each other’s nooks and it’s everything for Eridan not to moan in the pearly bliss of Equius’ body clenching rhythmically around him.

Whoever stopped moves on, footsteps fading down the hall. Eridan bites Equius’ ear. His blueblood whimpers.

~

Equius looks confused when Eridan commands him to pleasure himself, but like always it doesn’t take more than a firmer tone to persuade him to zealous action. His motions are initially cautious, but soon he fumbles his great bulge to an impressive arousal.

“Stop.”

Equius drops his tentabulge as if it were a poisoned blade, but Eridan wraps his fingers around the slickened length to continue where he left off. He works Equius’s tentabulge first, then applies his other hand to Equius’s nook. Equius pants and groans until he can’t restrain himself any longer under Eridan’s calloused hands and climaxes.

~

The shackles clang to the floor. “I want to feel your hands on me today.”

“I don’t think–”

“I’m not ordering you to think.”

Equius hands first go to Eridan’s arms, but it’s so awkward Eridan’s bulge shrinks. He growls another order, Equius fixes his hold, and that’s when Eridan feels his hands’ _strength_. It is strength that must have taken every ounce of concentration Equius had at his disposal to control. Equius could snap his restraints as easily as he could snap Eridan’s neck.

All this time.

Eridan’s hands shake when he clamps the irons on Equius’s wrists.

~

Since the incident, Eridan removes the irons for sex and always replaces them immediately after. Equius never takes liberties, but Eridan still feels thrills from the reverence in every touch. He guides Equius’s hands exactly where he wants, and that night in the midst of their coitus he guides them to encircle his throat.

“Whose are you?” He presses harder on Equius’s hands; the strong fingers give but never so much they close around his throat. Personal reluctance, or had he finally found the order Equius would disobey?

Equius forces himself to meet Eridan’s eyes with heartfelt gaze. “I’m yours.”

~

There comes a night, perigrees later, that Eridan doesn’t replace the irons.

“Stay put until I return.” There’s not a doubt in his mind that Equius, with his naked wrists, will obey the order completely. He understands true domination encompasses more than rusty irons. Eridan’s words alone bind, and just as Equius never broke his shackles before he will never break them now.

“Yes, Master.” Sweat and slurry sheen Equius’s grey skin in the indigo moonlight. Eridan only smiles after he turns so Equius won’t see and misconstrue his sentiments for something more... pitiful. After all, he is in control.

**Author's Note:**

> My Shit Let's Be Santa giftfic for pinkiepunk10! Happy New Year ~_^
> 
> It was a lot trickier than I thought to keep each link contained to 100 words, but I found this request very stimulating, creatively-speaking. I really had fun writing this, and I hope it's just as enjoyable to read.


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